


Late Nights in the Office

by Diary



Category: Scandal (TV)
Genre: Angst, Awkwardness, Bechdel Test Fail, Canon Gay Character, Canon Gay Relationship, Canon Queer Character, Dark Character, Getting Together, Introspection, Late Night Conversations, M/M, POV Cyrus Beene, POV Male Character, POV Queer Character, Past Cyrus Beene/James Novak, Past Relationship(s), Romance, Self-Reflection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-10-08 18:20:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10393146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diary/pseuds/Diary
Summary: Another look at how Cyrus and Tom might have gotten together. Complete.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Scandal.

One good thing about Agent Tom Larsen is: He never particularly reacts to the insanity constantly going on within the White House.

When Cyrus tells him, “I’m sleeping in here tonight,” Tom simply nods.

“Sir. Should I leave the rosters on your desk or bring them by in the morning?”

“Leave them.”

Putting them on the desk, Tom visibly hesitates. “Your belt will leave marks, sir. If you sleep in it.”

“Right,” Cyrus sighs. “Thank you.”

Starting to leave, Tom bumps into a folder setting on the edge of the desk, and just as Cyrus remembers what the folder contains, Tom is already kneeling to-

There’s a definite reaction when Tom takes in the photos, but he quickly schools his face back to its customary neutral expression, picks the folder up, and puts it back on the desk. “It’s none of my business, Mr Beene.”

“Tom.”

Tom stops his brisk pace towards the door.

“No one can know.”

“I don’t say anything about things that aren’t my business, sir.”

“Thank you,” Cyrus quietly says.

He lets Tom leave.

…

After Tom sees the pictures, he’s true to his word and doesn’t say anything, but, and Cyrus knows it might just be his imagination, it seems Tom is around more often than he was before.

Now, it’s late night, they’re doing revisions on duty rosters due to a number of Secret Service agents getting food poisoning, and for reasons Cyrus isn’t sure of, he finds himself blurting out, “James thinks I had Daniel Douglas killed.”

Looking up, Tom is quiet for a moment. “By a heart attack? It’s possible, but- very delicate. There are a number of other, easier ways that would give much more plausible reasons to suspect foul play.”

Something about this reaction eases the tension, guilt, and bewilderment brewing in Cyrus.

“He’s not thinking in such- he slept with Daniel Douglas, there are pictures of the act, and not a week later, Daniel Douglas is dead. He’s hurt, angry, and scared. Plausibility isn’t in the forefront of his mind right now.”

Rubbing his head, he continues, “It’s not his fault. I drove him to it.”

Shifting slightly in his seat, Tom looks contemplative. “I’m sorry you’re hurt. Hurting. But I’m probably not the best person to talk to about this, sir. You’re very traditional when it comes to matters of the heart. I’m not. For what it’s worth, though, whatever a person is feeling, whatever the state of their relationship, in the end, they, no one else, make one of two choices: Cheat or don’t. And they have no one to blame but themselves if they make the former choice.”

“Fair enough,” Cyrus says. “Though, ‘traditional’ is an interesting word choice. I used to use it to describe myself until I married James. Or more accurately until I- came out.”

The look Tom gives him is one of genuine confusion. “No, I’m not going to tell you who, but I have a good idea of who all in the White House is and isn’t having affairs. As far as I can tell, you’ve never been one of them. I wasn’t around during your first marriage, but when you were dating Mr Novak, he was the only one. Then, you married him, and even when you were staying in the Grand District Hotel, he was still the only one. You have a daughter together.”

“Most people don’t care,” Cyrus points out. “‘Alternative’ is the word they use. A number of states don’t even recognise our marriage.”

Tom is pointedly quiet.

“Luckily, Jameson has a steel stomach,” Cyrus offers. “Why do you have her assigned to Teddy?”

“In case it’s not so much a case of a strong stomach as delayed symptoms,” Tom answers. “Though, in her case, she could…”

…

Cyrus works late, and James lets him in.

In fact, James clearly prefers he does.

Tom works late, too, and it’s not Cyrus’s place to ask if Tom doesn’t have anyone who cares about these newfound late nights. He’s never heard of Tom having a girlfriend or boyfriend, and Hal applied for a transfer shortly after Fitz’s shooting. Tom isn’t as close to any of Secret Service as Hal, but surely, he has friends, at least, outside of work. He knows from Tom’s file that Tom is an orphan with no known siblings.

Admittedly, it not being his place to ask something isn’t going to stop him, even if he regrets doing so seconds afterwards, such as, “James wants a divorce. I won’t- I can’t- What would you do if you were in my position, Tom?”

“Respectfully, sir, I don’t think I’d ever be in your position,” is Tom’s careful, polite reply.

Cyrus should just let it go, but apparently, appropriateness and common sense have completely abandoned him. “Because you’d never marry a man or because, if someone did cheat on you, you’d already be gone?”

There’s silence, and Cyrus is about to apologise when Tom answers, “Because, when it comes to marriage and monogamy, my views- are different from yours. I don’t agree marriage, any marriage, should be a legally recognised institution. People legal binding themselves together in such a way is asking for trouble. This has been proven over and over again.”

“The benefits marriage provide-”

“I disagree with most of those benefits being granted, and the ones I do agree couples should have- In the case of heterosexual couples having children, the law grants certain automatic rights to both biological parents, regardless of marriage. I’ve always thought gay couples and single people who want to adopt should have an easier time at it. When it comes to the case of a sick person in the hospital, I’ve never understood why whoever the person wants in the room, as long as the person or people didn’t cause a risk to other patients, isn’t automatically let in.”

“It goes deeper than that,” Cyrus says. “Married couples have the right to make delicate medical decisions if their spouse can’t. Not to mention the tax benefits, ability to give and receive assets without gift tax, the ability to legally protect themselves and one another in the form of spousal privilege.”

Taking a drink of his water, Tom shrugs. “There are plenty of people who need tax breaks, but I don’t think deciding to legally bind themselves to another person should be a way to get them. It’s harder, yes, but people can legally grant someone the right to make medical decisions in their stead if the need arises. And if you know someone did something wrong or that the law considers wrong, you make the choice whether they’re worth protecting or not. If they are, if they’re worth suffering the consequences of doing so, then, you risk the potential consequences by refusing to testify. If they aren’t, you put yourself first by testifying. An abused wife or husband can suffer from spousal privilege being in play.”

We could probably go on all night, Cyrus realises. Tom has obviously carefully thought his views through, and he’s unlikely to change them.

“We’ll have to agree to disagree. Let me guess, you don’t believe in monogamy any more than you do marriage.”

“If I promised to be faithful to someone, I would. I know myself well enough to know that. On the whole, however, humans aren’t a naturally monogamous species. If I was with someone who didn’t want monogamy, I’d rather they be honest. I’m not saying I might not occasionally feel jealous, but I could handle them- doing private things with other people.”

Cyrus isn’t so sure.

“And what if you wanted a person who was already committed to someone else?”

“Assuming they wanted me back?” At Cyrus’s nod, Tom continues, “As a kid, there was this soap opera I watched every day. It was the only thing a woman who looked after me watched, is the reason. At one point, this female character slept with a married man, and everyone blamed her. I could never understand that. She didn’t make any promises to the wife. He did. He broke them. I can agree, being with someone you know is married or otherwise committed might not exactly be- kind, but it’s not your job to try to make them keep their promises.”

“Yes, that’s true. But when it comes down to self-respect- do you really think you’d be okay being the other person, Tom? I’ve never understood how anyone could be.”

“What’s to say I haven’t been before,” is Tom’s quiet response.

Thrown, Cyrus nevertheless concedes he should have considered the possibility.

“I’m probably overstepping here, but you’re a bit of an oddity, Mr Beene. There’s no flattery, only facts: You’re one of the most powerful men in this country. You’re rich. Men like that typically don’t believe in fidelity. Or they might expect it from their partner, but they view it as fine for them to play around. I wouldn’t go for someone like that. Being with someone in order to gain something- isn’t really being with someone, in my opinion. It shouldn’t be about that, though, I can’t judge the choices certain people make too harshly. Doing what you have to, to survive-” He shrugs.

“I’m drawn to passionate people. I like being around them, helping them however I can. If I’m lucky, I get to experience some of that passion directed towards me. But I’m not really a passionate person myself. I do my job, I do what’s needed to take care of myself, and I rarely truly want more than that. Asking someone with all these thoughts and feelings and ideas to truly limit themselves to one person isn’t going to end well for me or them.”

“You don’t know that,” Cyrus protests. “With the right person, you could be all someone wants and needs. But with that attitude-”

“If I am, then, I am. If I’m not, though, I won’t end up too heartbroken over it.”

Sighing, Cyrus looks back down at his papers. “Let’s take a short break.”

…

When he comes back from the bathroom, he finds-

“O’Quinn should be reassigned,” a grumpy Tom informs him. With a gesture, he continues, “Hot coffee.”

Feeling only marginally a little less off-kilter, Cyrus sees Tom’s shirt and undershirt, jacket, and tie do have tell-tale signs of coffee staining, and Tom carefully touching his naked chest, back, and arms to check for damage makes sense.

“Worse, he ran away. There’s a junior congresswoman in Alaska who has eight cats, three dogs, and a pet pig. I can see what agents are currently assigned-”

“Tom, I’m sorry, but I don’t think you can get O’Quinn reassigned. Here, just a minute.”

He digs around his coat closet and finds his old Harvard sweatshirt. He initially ordered it to be long enough to go past his waist, and he was about the same size back then he is now. Tossing it over, he says, “Here. It’ll probably be snug in certain places and too loose in others, but you can wear it to go get something from your locker or take it home for the night, give it back tomorrow. Having a half-naked Secret Service agent running around is something to be avoided.”

Giving him a grateful look, Tom slips it on and takes a deep breath. “Thank you, sir.” He sits down. “What if I strongly advise-”

“Tom, O’Quinn has his uses. Namely, Sally Langston likes him.”

Thankfully, Tom doesn’t respond to this. “Well, on the topic of agents who do want to be reassigned…”

Cyrus sits down.

…

He knows what he’s doing.

If it weren’t for Ella, James would be gone. Even with Ella in the picture, James is likely plotting his escape. Eventually, he’s going to try to take her and leave Cyrus.

This isn’t a marriage.

Sleeping next to a man who doesn’t want him there, feeling uneasy and uncomfortable every time he lays down in the bed that was once theirs, knowing James feels the discomfort and uneasiness even more acutely, likely with a measure of dread mixed in-

He’ll never be able to touch James again. The knowledge James will never want him to hurts less than the idea, if he tried, James might allow it because James is more-or-less a prisoner.

He knows he’s fighting an unwinnable battle, and he knows he’s going to continue doing so.

Having James back in the White House is even worse for the simple fact James rarely tries to get statements, facts, or opinions from him, despite the fact getting them would help James.

All of this has him yelling on the phone at an idiot when Tom comes in, and one look at Tom’s face puts him on edge. “This conversation is not over. I will be calling back shortly, and if I have to come down to- Just don’t be an idiot, McClain. Could you possibly manage that?”

Hanging up, he says, “I know by the look on your face, this isn’t going to be anything I want to hear, Tom. So- just give it to me.”

“Sir. Uh, I’m not sure how, I am looking into it, but Hollis Doyle managed to get into the White House.”

“Okay, well, that isn’t good, but-”

“There was an incident between him and your husband, Mr Beene,” Tom says with a look of a man who might just jump out of Cyrus’s two feet above the ground window. “Mr Novak is physically fine. It didn’t escalate to- Doyle said something to insult him, he said something back, and soon, they were screaming at one another in the hallway near the pressroom. Jameson forcibly escorted Doyle out.”

Rubbing his temples, Cyrus asks, “How much were you there for?”

“I arrived as Doyle was being escorted out.”

Striding out, Cyrus mutters, “Thank you, Tom.”

…

After James has gone home for the night, Tom appears with Cyrus’s sweatshirt.

“Thank you. Look, we’ll do the reports in the morning. Right now, I’m going to try to get some sleep.”

“Here, sir?”

“Yes,” he tiredly answers.

“Belt,” Tom reminds him.

“Right.” He starts to take it off. “For all I disagree with your ideas on marriage and how relationships should be approached, I admire the fact you apparently haven’t made any big mistakes in that area. When I was your age, I was married to a woman I desperately wanted to love and want the way I thought a man should. Now, I’m married to man who hates me, and as much as it would be better for me to, I can’t stop loving him and wanting him. Pathetic.”

“You feel things very deeply,” Tom replies with no judgement in his tone. “I usually do what I need to in life. It’s rare I try to go after something I want.”

Getting a blanket and pillow out, Cyrus sits down. “If that ever stops working for you, I’d advise you to change it quickly. If you can. If you can’t- some people can’t.” He lies down. “Goodnight, Tom.”

…

Sitting down in one of the hotel room’s chairs, Cyrus declares, “Vargas is officially running for President.”

From his place on the bed, Tom nods and smiles slightly. Ever since they started working together outside of the White House, Tom has been surprisingly much more open and causal around him, but there are times when he’ll lapse into silences Cyrus might describe as sad or regretful.

“Thank you for all your help. Good luck on whatever you do next,” he continues.

Looking over, Tom says, “I could do more.”

“Job’s done, Tom. I can handle things from here. Maybe it’s time for you to go after something you’ve always wanted,” he suggests. “No more B6-13, no more prison, no record of the latter. The money should last you for a while.”

“You and Ambruso aren’t a love story, are you?”

“No, of course not,” Cyrus scoffs. “Not that’s particularly any of your business.”

Getting up, Tom walks over to Cyrus’s chair and, before Cyrus has time to think, Tom grabs his hand, slips it under Tom’s shirt, and presses it against Tom’s side. The contact makes Tom tense and visibly shiver, and Cyrus realises he’s feeling scar tissue.

“Maybe it’s time,” Tom says.

Moving his hand away, Cyrus says, “You’ve lost me somewhere.”

Part of him is practically screaming, _And leave. Now._

The rest of him is aware he’s not as scared as he should be to be alone in a room with a known assassin.

“I never had a chance those late nights in your office. For all the ways you didn’t truly want your wife, part of you must have loved her.  But, now, you’ve married someone you don’t love, and I’m hoping your strong belief in fidelity doesn’t extend to this situation. And that you want me, too.”

Cyrus is sure there’s a correct response to this.

Step one: Figure out what exactly _this_ is.

“I told you, then,” Tom continues, “that I was drawn to passionate people.”

Cyrus remembers, but he never would have thought- he knows he’s a passionate person, but he would’ve never thought he might possibly be someone Tom would have an interest in.

“Job’s done,” Tom repeats. “I’ve been nothing but honest since we started truly working together, Cyrus. This isn’t a trap or a way of getting something else. This is just me, finally taking a chance at going after something I want. If we do this, afterwards, if you want me to go, I will.”

Carefully, Cyrus brings his hand to Tom’s shirt and presses down where the scars are underneath. “What happened?”

“A guard stabbed me. He might have been B6-13. Or he might have just been someone chosen. I thought it was Rowan, but he insists it was Olivia Pope. I don’t know or particularly care, anymore.”

Through the fabric, Tom is warm and strong but yielding. He smells faintly of the hotel soap, and Cyrus was married to James when Tom used to play basketball on the White House courts, go on runs with Fitz, walk around in well-fitted suits the rest of the time, and had hot coffee split all over him. It was never more than a passing thought, but he knew how good Tom looked, and if it weren’t for James, Cyrus likely would have found himself with embarrassing, inappropriate thoughts towards Tom.

He and Michael are getting along much better, now, but the truth is, if Michael were in someone else’s bed right now, the only thing Cyrus would care about is not letting the public find out.

Standing up, he hesitates and, then, brings his hand up from Tom’s side to Tom’s cheek.

…

Cyrus finds he doesn’t want to leave the bed. It’s warm, Tom feels good wrapped around him, and the beating heart he can feel in his chest is a pleasant sensation.

For his part, Tom is pressing little kisses on various patches of skin, curling his fingers through Cyrus’s hair with one hand, and gently stroking up and down Cyrus’s torso with the other.

“What else is on your list of things you want?”

Tom’s voice is almost shy when he answers, “I’m hoping we can do this again.”

“Besides that.”

He can vaguely feel Tom’s shrug against him. “I’ve told you, there isn’t much I often want.”

It strikes Cyrus he and Tom have made a good team. As far as he knows, Tom has been completely honest. And aside from the fact Cyrus himself hopes for a next time, it’s nice and freeing to have someone who isn’t shocked or disgusted by the things he’s done, the things he’s planning to do, and just the sort of person he truly is. In a way, Tom can even understand him.

“You can do more,” he finds himself saying. “You and I, we’ve made a pretty good team. Just- Michael and I can’t divorce right now. When we can, I’m not sure he won’t fight it due to Ella, but I’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. I’d say you weren’t the other man, because, I genuinely want you in ways I haven’t wanted him in a long time, but technically-” He sighs.

“I wouldn’t care even if I was,” Tom replies. “I’ve seen what happens when B6-13 agents fall in love. In addition, I’ve seen- what happens when people fall in love with you, Cyrus. I wouldn’t make that mistake.”

Despite the apologetic tinge to his tone, his words are resolute.

“Good,” Cyrus says.

Turning onto his side, he kisses Tom, and Tom pulls him so he’s on top of Tom.


End file.
